


Lit From Within (With Love)

by INeFfinP



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Drabble, Ice Skating, M/M, Olympics, One Shot, figure skating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 12:42:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13364934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeFfinP/pseuds/INeFfinP
Summary: Harry and Draco meet at a figure skating competition, and somehow end up training together when Harry's coach retires. This is a short little one-shot that shows what leads up to their first kiss.





	Lit From Within (With Love)

Harry was two the first time he went ice skating. Sirius would have taken him out last year, but Lily had given him that look and said, “You can’t take him out ice skating before he can even walk, Sirius,” in that voice. The voice she only ever reserved for Sirius (and James). So it had to wait.

It’s just before Christmas, and the pond has been iced over for a while now. Remus and Sirius go to the Potter’s home with a tiny pair of skates for the sprog and Sirius informs Lily that there’s no excuse for Harry not to go ice skating this year. She had rolled her eyes, but laughed nonetheless and allowed her son to be bundled in his warmest clothes and carried out to the pond. His uncles each grabbed a small hand, and together the three of them stepped onto the ice. Harry didn’t even try to move his feet, he just let himself be pulled along by his “Mooey” and his “Pa’foo’,” and his smile just splitting his face.

It becomes tradition. Every year, Sirius and Remus bring a new pair of skates and come over around Christmas time, and the three of them spend hours out skating around. Harry is allowed to keep the skates, and he spends his winters out on the frozen pond. By the time he’s five, he’s taught himself how to spin and jump about, and Sirius tells Lily in no uncertain terms that if she doesn’t get that boy ice skating lessons, he’s going to. “Because that boy is _good_ and he deserves to learn it properly.”

That year, Harry’s Christmas present is figure skating lessons.

Draco has also been skating since he was very young. His parents met on the skating rink, and so Draco was around it his whole life. He is just sort of expected to continue the tradition, and while he likes it, he really does, it’s not his passion. But he’s good at it. At nine years old, he starts competing in regional competitions, and by the age of ten, he’s winning them.

The first time they meet, they’re eleven. It’s their first national competition. Draco’s favored to win, but Harry somehow comes from behind and manages to beat Draco. And Draco is shook. He’s come in second place to this scrawny, messy-haired nobody with a scar on his forehead and green eyes that are lit from within with love for this sport, and it takes weeks for Draco to stop dreaming about precious stones.

A few months after the competition, Draco comes to practice and none other than the boy with emeralds for eyes is there. Turns out Harry’s coach had decided it was finally time to retire, but he recommended a new coach for Harry—Draco’s coach.

The boys start training together. And the more Draco gets to know this boy, the more he starts to despise him. Harry is so _happy_ , and he’s nice to everyone, and he’s _good_. And not just good at skating, just _good,_ in every sense of the word. And Draco is jealous and harsh, snarky and unpleasant.

They’re 15 when Draco falls and breaks his ankle. They were learning how to do a triple lutz. Harry tries first, and it’s not perfect, but it’s not awful, either. And then Draco got cocky and thought he could do better, but now his ankle is broken. And to his everlasting annoyance, Harry is there by Draco’s side while they drive to hospital. And a few days later, Draco’s lying on his bed, feeling sorry for himself—because now he’s out of the running for the world championship this year, and it’s going to make getting to the next Olympics that much harder— when Harry fucking Potter stops by and hangs out with him. This feeling that Draco is experiencing, it’s _annoyance_ , not _gratefulness_ , dammit.

It takes a few more weeks of Harry stopping by, watching Draco hobbling about on crutches, before Draco is back on the ice. They start training again, but this time they’re more amicable; pushing each other to be the best. It’s still a little prickly sometimes, but the harshness is gone. Draco thinks maybe this boy isn’t _quite_ so annoying, after all. And, well, if Draco starts noticing how gracefully Harry moves, or how long and lean his body is, his narrow hips and firm muscles, well, that’s nothing Harry needs to know.

It’s the year before the Olympics. Draco and Harry both do well enough at the National Championships that they’re practicing for the Olympics. Both boys work hard on their routines, and know each other’s routine by heart. And the first time Harry does his Olympic routine perfectly, it’s Draco, not Harry, that’s ecstatic. And Harry gets this silly grin on his face as he watches Draco celebrate Harry’s success.

Finally, it’s the Olympic pre-qualifiers, and both boys place. They’re actually going to the Olympics, and they’re thrilled. But then Harry gets called “The Chosen One” to win by some news or sports commentator somewhere and the name sticks. And Draco is a bit discontent, a bit bitter, because he wants to win, too, and he’s confused, because he knows Harry deserves this, that Harry is good enough to win.

They both go out, and skate their hearts out; they do their best. And Draco was good, he was great, but Harry was phenomenal, and it’s over. Harry wins, he gets the gold. Of course he does. But Draco gets the bronze, and he’s proud of that, because he knows he did his best, but that Harry blew everyone else out of the water with his skill and passion and artistry.

And when they’re standing on the platform with _God Save the Queen_ roaring in their ears, Draco looks over at Harry, only to find him smiling at Draco, and his eyes are soft, and warm, and so very green, and they’re fucking _sparkling_. And Draco’s heart flutters and it has nothing to do with being on stage, with winning the Olympics, and everything to do with the smiling boy with green eyes and messy hair and a scar on his forehead who is so very good. And Draco feels his cheeks warm, and they tinge pink, and Harry’s smile widens.

They’re in a back room after the ceremony and Draco’s heart won’t settle down; he thinks Harry can tell, because he keeps looking at Draco _like that_ and Draco tells him to stop, but he doesn’t, he just walks closer, into Draco’s space. He raises his gaze a bit to meet Draco’s eyes, looking up at him, and his mouth lifts up into a smirk, like he just can’t keep it in any longer.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he says clearly, and then pauses, waiting for Draco to move, to say no, to deny that he wants this. And Draco’s heart practically leaps out of his chest in anticipation as he stands there, waiting, hoping. And after a moment, Harry rolls up onto the balls of his feet so he can reach Draco.

And he kisses Draco. It’s soft, and sweet, and warm, and tingles start in his lips and then run through his body, electrifying him, burning him, igniting him. And Draco sighs, and wraps his hands around Harry’s waist, and kisses back.


End file.
